ide. The bright blaze gleamed upon the fantastic figures of its oaken
back, and shone through the open-work, so that a complete pattern was
thrown upon the opposite side of the room. Sometimes, for a moment or two,
the shadow remained immovable, as if it were painted on the wall. Then,
all at once, it began to quiver, and leap, and dance, with a frisky
motion. Anon, seeming to remember that these antics were unworthy of such
a dignified and venerable chair, it suddenly stood still. But soon it
began to dance anew.

"Only see how grandfather's chair is dancing!" cried little Alice.

And she ran to the wall, and tried to catch hold of the flickering shadow;
for to children of five years old, a shadow seems almost as real as a
substance.

"I wish," said Clara, "Grandfather would sit down in the chair, and finish
its history."

If the children had been looking at Grandfather, they would have noticed
that he paused in his walk across the room, when Clara made this remark.
The kind old gentleman was ready and willing to resume his stories of
departed times. But he had resolved to wait till his auditors should
request him to proceed, in order that they might find the instructive
history of the chair a pleasure, and not a task.

"Grandfather," said Charley, "I am tired to death of this dismal rain, and
of hearing the wind roar in the chimney. I have had no good time all day.
It would be better to hear stories about the chair, than to sit doing
nothing, and thinking of nothing."

To say the truth, our friend Charley was very much out of humor with the
storm, because it had kept him all day within doors, and hindered him from
making trial of a splendid sled, which Grandfather had given him for a New
Year's gift. As all sleds, now-a-days, must have a name, the one in
question had been honored with the title of Grandfather's Chair, which was
painted in golden letters, on each of the sides. Charley greatly admired
the construction of the new vehicle, and felt certain that it would
outstrip any other sled that ever dashed adown the long slopes of the
Common.

As for Laurence, he happened to be thinking, just at this moment, about
the history of the chair. Kind old Grandfather had made him a present of a
volume of engraved portraits, representing the features of eminent and
famous people of all countries. Among them Laurence found several who had
formerly occupied our chair, or been connected with its adventures. While
Grandfa